Okay
by Satan Abraham
Summary: Now that he thought about it, maybe he hadn't left out the part about wanting something of Scarface's. Oneshot. Barkocilla. Insane!Barkovitch.


It was over with. It was over with and he was fine, fine, fine and they were _all dead_. All dead. Scarface was dead, Garraty was dead, Parker was dead, and _Scarface was dead._

He giggled. Scarface was dead. They were all dead. They were all dead, _and he couldn't stop laughing. _But that was okay. He could laugh. He was alive, _alive dammit, _and they were dead. It was perfectly fine because he was alive and _they were dead._

He didn't remember much until he woke up in a hospital bed. He shifted slightly and winced. Christ, he was sore. Why was he-

They were dead.

_Christ I watched ninety-nine boys get their heads blown off, heads blown off and guts blown out and Christ I'm insane I know it but I'm okay, I'm okay and alive and I won't have to deal with anything ever again no never again I'm never going back to school no because if they were nice to me now it wouldn't be real, because nobody ever liked me that's why it's so funny that they're all dead, all fucking dead, all of them-_

"Gary?"

His mother. Yes, that was his mother peering into his room. It was a nice room, now that he thought about it. Probably because he'd won. He had money now. And whatever else he wanted.

"They had to do the funeral before you woke up. You were sleeping for days," she said. He nodded, nodded because what else was there to do, what else was there to do he couldn't say he was glad he'd missed the funeral, he didn't care that they were dead, _he hated them._

She was looking at him – Christ, he was even awkward around his own _family_. Was he supposed to say something? Reassure her that he was okay? Say that yes, he'd made lots of friends and yes, he was sad to see them die because that wasn't true, didn't she watch the coverage of him laughing, laughing when any of them got shot, laughing when Parker went down off the halftrack, when Scarface sat down, when Baker's nose started to bleed? She had to have, and even if she didn't she knew what kind of person he was.

He didn't care if people died. He didn't care as long as he was okay and he was _okay. _He was sore as hell, but he was still okay. Not dead. Not walking. Okay.

"Are you okay?"

He almost laughed again then but didn't, then he'd be seen as more insane than he was, because he wasn't actually _insane_, no, just okay. "Yeah. I'm okay." His voice cracked. It hadn't been used in a while, no, he hadn't talked in a while, just thinking and laughing and not dying and apparently sleeping for days.

It was probably a good thing he hadn't been awake for the funeral, because he probably would've started laughing again.

* * *

"What do you want?"

_I want a house away from everyone, everyone I know I want to start over, and maybe I can start over so many times because I need extra chances because I always get off on the wrong foot and I want something of Scarface's just to spite him and hell I'll give something to that stupid fucking Scramm's wife, that will be fine –_

He hadn't said anything. He repeated everything he'd thought, only a little less insane, and he said he'd send Scramm's wife a bit of money each week, just because Scramm was an idiot didn't mean that his baby had to die. He also left out the Scarface bit, that was just insane, he didn't need that, even though he did.

Now he was situated in his new house, his new house in _Maine, _Garraty's hometown of all places. He wasn't ever going to leave. Home was a sanctuary, home was a place where you could live and just stay there and you were safe… like when he'd been normal, normal and friendless yes, but sane for the most part, go to school, go through hell and come home. Come home and don't stick around outside for longer than you had to. Do that and someone will come along and say something or throw something and then you'd have to duck inside, bright red again because everyone hated you.

Someone knocked at his door and he jumped. He hadn't expected anyone to show up at his house… well, ever, apart from the occasional family visit. He opened the door and was equally surprised to see a really pretty girl with a suitcase standing there.

"Why are you here?" he asked. She bit her lip.

"I- apparently I'm supposed to stay here? And be a housekeeper? Because I dated Peter?"

Now that he thought about it, maybe he hadn't left out the bit about wanting something of Scarface's.

"Uh… okay," he said. They stood in awkward silence for a few more minutes until she asked if she could come in. Barkovitch turned red and nodded, letting her in.

* * *

Living with a girl in the house, and a pretty girl at that, was really weird. What was even weirder was the fact that she didn't seem to completely despise him, and if she did, she was good at hiding it. That was also weird, considering people didn't usually hide it. Instead of hiding it they'd trip him or make comments or throw things or push him down stairs or-

Focus, focus, focus. That was all over now. It was all over. All over.

* * *

Whenever Gary Barkovitch had his moments Priscilla left the room. Not without reason – it was a little weird, the boy would just stop whatever he'd been doing and stare blankly out in front of him. Every once in a while he'd start shaking. Priscilla had no doubt that he was insane.

But she was getting paid for this, as well as free board and food. And his 'episodes' aside, Gary Barkovitch wasn't that bad of a person. Insane, yes. Sarcastic, yes. Completely unlikeable, once you thought about it? Yes.

But Priscilla wasn't any better of a person. Really, they were perfect for each other.

* * *

Barkovitch didn't even know how it had happened. Every night they watched a bit of TV, Priscilla would make him some popcorn, and they'd sit a good three inches apart. But lately they must have been unconsciously scooting together, because now a scary movie was on the TV, the popcorn was crushed between them, her head was buried in his shoulder and he was freaking out.

Not because of the movie. He loved scary movies. But because there he was, extremely close to a girl that could probably be with any guy in the world – hell, she'd been with Scarface, and as much as Barkovitch hated the guy, he had to admit, he was popular with girls. Not as popular as Collie Parker, or Garraty – though Barkovitch thought that had more to do with the fact that he was from Maine than anything – but popular all the same.

They must have fallen asleep like that, because next thing Barkovitch knew he was blinking open his eyes, the popcorn was scattered all over the floor, and he was closer to her than he'd ever been to any girl.

She woke up then, blinking up at him. "Oh. I fell asleep."

"I did too," Barkovitch said. The TV was still going – news. Barkovitch wasn't particularly interested in news, so he got up to turn it off. She grabbed his hand.

"No, you can stay," she said.

They sat like that for a while, sometimes dozing off a little, sometimes watching the television, sometimes just sitting.

It was nice.

* * *

**Again with the 'i have no idea where this pairing came from but i like it'**

**They just work.**


End file.
